


i'm an expert - i'm the one

by antpelts



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: (in relation to golden boy seducing), (some of these will come later), Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Illness, References to Depression, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-12 04:19:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19559860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antpelts/pseuds/antpelts
Summary: Gavin found his calling with the help of the Vagabond, the Golden Boy found a niche he could fill finally and felt content. The information helped and all but as time dragged its feet the only one he wanted to hear speak was the Vagabond himself. He wasn't sure what he had to prove but there was something between them and Gavin knew he was going to find it.He was an expert.





	i'm an expert - i'm the one

There were a few things known of Gavin Free - though, his name was not one. Outside of the Fakes few people even knew to call him Gavin. On the streets of Los Santos and the news he was instead known as the city’s Golden Boy. The first few months it felt flashy and dumb in every which way Gavin was himself, evolving from a one-off comment focused on his golden-colored sunglasses. The news had originally referred to them as a crew, slowly taking liberties, easily pinpointing Geoff as “The Boss” and Jack as a “getaway driver” or addressed by her gender. Some were handed to them, the LSPD eventually released aliases to easier keep track of reports. Mogar was an easy one, it wasn’t something Michael went quietly about, plenty of times he announced it himself while on some violent streaks. Mogar was becoming a warning, really. Followed Brownman, known from his past sniper contracts before the Fakes, he had his own reputation. Gavin though.. Gavin was nothing.

Often he sat back, he was tech or getaway or in the worst cases, firepower. There was no skill he excelled in better than anyone else and he ached for a true place in the crew. Sensible parts of him knew he had skills, he knew that there was a use for him. Almost selfishly Gavin longed for more than being useful, he wanted a niche, a place. He wanted to be someone; “someone” was handed to him when news gossip radios began referring to him by his golden sunglasses. One grainy picture of him from a civilian sent in kicked a snowball right off Chiliad. Of course his most notable feature (aside from the nose) were the glasses, they were bright and grabbed the gaze of anyone close enough. The crew had been pretty amused when they heard the “news” which was really just all gossip and the name they’d chosen.

“Then this..this golden boy flies right in! Like a maniac. The time from landing to ejection was crazy, he should have been smashed into the pavement from all the impact. Best part - the whole time he’s got those glasses on!”

Like that Gavin was the joke of the penthouse for at least a week, every request of him ended with a call of “Golden Boy” which could rival the drawl of a sultry “lover boy”. At first he’d hoped it would blow over; he’d always wanted to move past the accusations of him being so pampered, an easy start didn’t disregard his hardships. However, refusing to disclose hardships made the crew envy all they really knew about him in a silent way which seemed to fade over the years. Half a week in he began to see the appeal, an excuse to dress himself up, paint himself in gold - it was a niche that was handed to him on a gold platter and he was going to find a way to fill it. Everyone be damned, the Golden Boy was going to be  _ something _ .

* * *

“Okay, gang. Here’s the thing, we’ve got an informant and a problem, it seems like he’s just not ready to talk. Our issue: we’re on a tight schedule and we need him to talk. Now. I know none of you are particularly versed in getting information.” BeforeMichael could protest Geoff waved his hand to stop him. Gavin noticed the way his fist tightened at his side.

“In getting information  _ cleanly _ . I don’t doubt anyone's skill to beat an answer out of someone but this is a job about persuasion. Non-violent persuasion.” Shouldering his way in front of Michael, Gavin waved his hand.

“Let me do it, c’mon Geoff. I wanna show off that new suit!” A subtle brag and excuse to explain why he was volunteering. In the past he’d stuck to what he was sure he knew, however, this wasn’t the past. His nightstand was riddled with rings now, they served two purposes; the shine was vital to his new title of Golden Boy and.. the bulky ones added an extra bite to any punch he might throw. Everything was new and he decided he would take every new job offer from Geoff until he found something new to make his. This meant extra sniping jobs while Ray was out, odd “rough ‘em up” jobs with Michael, and stealth jobs that he had no business attending. This could work though, non-violent intel. He was surely dressed to charm and it wouldn’t hurt to try it.

“Alright then,  _ Golden Boy _ ,” the word dripped from Geoff’s lips, “I’ll let you take this one. Careful not to get that suit dirty - I’ll send you the bar you’ll be meeting him at.”

With that he was off with a two-fingered salute, sliding around Ray to break from the circle and disappear towards his room. He only had a few hours to get ready and he was going to be the prettiest bastard that set foot in that bar for the next month at least.

It started with him trimming his beard, taking off a good inch. He decided to leave the stubble, deciding something about it looked better than a clean shave. Next was stripping down to sink into a bath, he opted for some essential oil with a scent that would draw anyone in and a glitter-filled bath bomb. Nothing wrong with being in covered with even more shimmer. As he sunk lower into the bath he formulated a plan for the rest of his prep. No hair gel, he’d just gotten it trimmed and the top stood up nicely on its own while the sides and back faded close to his head. Some shine under the eye and over the cheek, he wasn’t big into makeup but he had invested in a nice soft highlight; when he went gold he didn’t half-ass it. Though, he wouldn’t bother with any shimmer around his eyes, the sunglasses would cover them most of the time, no matter how dark the bar could be.

As the water slowly cooled Gavin began to drain it and hauled his body up. The tub could do with a rinse later, but only later, the bottom of it covered with spatterings of glitter. For now he had enough on his mind, enough that needed his attention. All thoughts went to the towel hung beside the bath, his sole focus on the next step. Dry off, get dressed. Towel around his waist he wandered back into his room, fingers dragging along the top of his dresser. They met the cool metal of one of his watches and he hummed in approval, pulling it towards him and slipping it onto his wrist. Holding up his arm he admired it, squinting as he spotted a smudge. Moving towards his bed he reached over and used the sheet the brush the fingerprints away. Since when was he so fussy?

Before bothering himself with rings he moved towards his closet, pulling boxers from his dresser as he pressed it. In a quick movement he dropped the towel, tugging the boxers over his legs quickly. Steeling himself with a deep intake of breath a hand pulled open one of his closet doors. What met his gaze was almost too much - suits pressed nicely slotted in beside faded t-shirts. The newest sat closest, a crisp white suit paired with a clean shirt beneath. There was absolutely no way it would last, the white would be ruined quicker than he could snap a finger, but it drew attention in a good way. Whoever this man was he was going to get that attention.

Fabric slid over skin, leaving Gavin feeling a bit tight in the new piece. His shirt was only partially tucked, something about it was a look Gav wanted to take advantage of. So he took a breath and shook out some nerves, suit going taught where he moved his arms around. Once he felt some nerves leave his chest he turned towards his nightstand, mulling over rings. Fingers toyed with a thin band with carved portions before moving to a thick band with a stone set inside. He could never choose so a collection made its way to his hands, a few fingers of each hand adorned with the metal, one even stacked with two thin bands. With that he was ready to hop on a bike and take on whatever waited at the address that lingered in his messages from Geoff.

With that he pulled on some socks before straightening up, kicking his feet into some shoes he left beside his door he stepped out into the penthouse proper. It was quiet. Everyone was on a smaller job, preliminary work to the job that would be possible once Gavin got his intel -  _ if  _ Gavin got his intel. He tried to brush off the pressure. He was capable, he had to be.

Regardless he went down the elevator, got into his shitty car, and pulled from the garage with only a slight squeal of tires. He fishtailed a bit, pressing a bit too hard on the gas to hold onto much control - not like Gavin ever had much control anyways. He sped through a yellow light and realized a bit too late he’d shot right past the bar and hit a hard stop, again losing control of his tires. With a sharp turn of the wheel he easily pulled a partial u-turn. With a push on the gas pedal he slid the rest of the way into the lane, spurred on by annoyed honks behind him. A look to the console he caught the time - fashionably late. It was good enough for him, without getting ahead himself he started on the gas. Before getting too far he tapped on the breaks, hanging a hard left turn to skid into the bar’s back lot. It was good enough, he got himself there, proof he didn’t need a license. 

More carefully than anything he slid into a spot and put his car into park. It was his last chance to turn around; his last chance to think about fleeing but being inevitably driven to go inside for the sake of Geoff’s trust in his ability. This was it. Everything melted away as he climbed out of the car, legs almost numb as they carried him to the door. He’d expected to have to pause, to have to look around, ponder who he was meeting. There was none of that, to his dread. The target was clear and his knees almost knocked as he made his way over. Taking a breath he tried to quell the fear rising in his chest. There was no turning back, he had a plan to stick to.

“Evenin’,” Gavin’s voice was low, his best attempt at anything sultry considering the fear seizing his heart. “Golden Boy, on the behalf of the Fakes.”

A cold silence met his words, all Gavin could see were eyes through the mask; they seemed curious, almost amused. As soon as he noticed, though, they turned hard. What was Geoff thinking? How could anyone drive the Vagabond to talk? Gav wasn’t even sure the man would speak normally, let alone giving up information. He was sure terror briefly flashed over his face as the man stood up, and motioned with his hand for Gavin to follow, expression unreadable. Against better judgement Gavin steadied himself and followed the Vagabond outside. The parking lot was dark, too dark - Gavin’s chest felt tight. He watched the masked man lean against the wall, waving Gavin closer. Everything about him just drove Gavin closer and closer, a fly caught in a web; wasn’t that what he was trying to do? Despite better judgement he crept closer, eyes straining to meet the Vagabond’s through his mask.

“I’ll cut you some slack,  _ Golden Boy _ .” The voice was low, it was clear he used it very infrequently, he had to cough it to life briefly. The sound was almost raw and scratchy, Gavin drank it in. “You tell Ramsey I’ll do him one better. Double the pay he offered for  _ words  _ and I’ll play along. I’ll bring my services.”

All Gavin could do was nod, equally terrified and proud of himself. It may not have been the plan he wanted but something about him made the Vagabond speak. As he walked away Gavin realized that the fear had begun to seep from him as he’d listened to the words, he’d think about that voice for days; until he saw the Vagabond again. Geoff wouldn’t turn down the Vagabond’s firepower which meant Gavin would see him again. He didn’t know what it meant but it was enough to give him drive. There was something about him, the  _ Golden Boy _ , that would make the  _ Vagabond  _ talk - he was riding a high.  _ This _ could be his niche.


End file.
